Unfinished
by Lancette
Summary: One-shot. What happened during the time between Mitchell staking Herrick and returning to Honolulu Heights? A story covering just a few of those days.


**As you all know, Being Human and it's wonderful characters belong to Toby W and the BBC, but I've really enjoyed playing in their world for a bit.**

**I was inspired by the other fantastic writers here to give it a go - this is my first story, ever, so I'd welcome any reviews you are kind enough to leave for me. **

**Be brutal, I can take it!**

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><p><strong>"Unfinished"<strong>

**Sunday**

It had all seemed so sensible and obvious when Nina said it. 'Look George, if he comes back, _when_ he comes back, we must be ready, his suitcase packed. Throw in any of his junk left in that box. Just … look, just get it packed up. We agreed he's dead to us. He can take his stuff and crawl back into whatever hammer house of horror life he's got lined up for himself. That's it. The end. We agreed.'

Annie had silently turned away and moved towards the kitchen, that calm, set look on her face again. As far as George knew she hadn't set foot into _his_ room since the day three weeks ago when he was dragged from the house, and that obviously wasn't about to change tonight.

There wasn't much to get ready. One battered old suitcase, chucked in the back of the Volvo on that manic flight from Bristol. And the old cardboard box they had thrown random stuff into in their haste to leave. Not much to show for over a century of living.

It was in the cardboard box. He'd got to the bottom of it and thought, right, nothing of _his_ left in there. But there it was. A mask. A slightly battered old pierrot mask. No wait, George mentally checked himself, it had black and red diamond shapes on it. That made it a harlequin mask, all those pub quizzes were not wasted. But why the hell had he kept such a bizarre thing? Maybe he'd been an acrobat or a dancer. A smile passed across George's face for the first time in weeks. Well, ridiculous as it sounded who knows what he might have been up to. After all, the man had worked with Bogie in the 40s. Anything was possible.

That was when it hit him just how much he missed Mitchell. He clutched the mask between his hands for long moments as he sat on the bed, staring at it as if could answer all those unspoken questions. Then he quietly tossed it into the suitcase, clipped the locks shut and stashed the case in the corner of the room.

He studiously avoided Nina's gaze as he walked back through the living room, and pushed through into the kitchen. Annie's reaction was inevitable. 'Tea, George?'

'I didn't ask.' George whispered.

'Ask what, George?'

'I just assumed it all. He's a vampire. He did evil. He slaughtered twenty people. That's what he'd do because he's a killer. He's always been a killer. We just closed our eyes to it because we needed him.'

'Well, yes. Basically that's it.' Annie's jaw set hard. 'Vampires, they're like bacteria, a disease, a pl ...'

'Did _you_ ask him?'

Annie sighed. 'You're going to have to spell this out for me.'

'Why. Asked him why. God, Annie. This is Mitchell we're talking about. Killing someone because he was hungry, or to protect someone else, or because he was too fucking turned on to stop I can get. But this? Christ! What happened Annie, did he tell you? All that stuff with the Facility, it's too much of a coincidence. What did he tell you?''

'Since when did Mitchell share anything George, and in the end what does it matter. Fact is he did it.'

George slumped slightly, taking his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose. 'Yes yes. You're right. I just wish ... ' he took a deep breath, 'Mitchell asked me to ask him, but I told him I didn't want to know, I couldn't be his confessor. When he needed me I told him to shut up. So he did. And now I guess I'll never ... Sod it. Give me that tea, I think I need it.'

'Oh he'll come back one day George, and tell you how sorry he is, and wait for you to say "there, there, it's ok". Nina's right. He's not going to contaminate our lives any further, especially not with the baby on the way, this time we take control and stand on our own feet. What matters now is protecting you and Nina from Herrick. Vampires are not going to do any more harm to the people I love, George, I promise you that. Anyway, Nina needs this peppermint tea to take up to bed.'

George was left in no doubt that this conversation was now closed. 'OK. You're right. Ignore me Annie, it's getting close to my time of the month.'

But he still avoided Nina's gaze as he carried his own tea up to the bar and switched on the TV. Unfinished business always kept him awake at night.

* * *

><p>She nearly laughed. It took a huge effort of will to bite it back. Just how downtrodden and bedraggled could a man look? 'Yes, we're still open, come on in' she'd said. He had walked into the café and slid into the most uncomfortable chair in the coldest corner. Dark curls damp from the night drizzle hung unkempt around his face. His shoulders hunched and his eyes were down. Beth didn't know whether to approach him with the menu or one of the cards left by the Samaritans.<p>

All part of the game, she told herself. If you want to own a café and get enough income to convert the back room into a bookshop, then you had to stay open unsociable hours to start with, get accepted by the community. It would work in the end. All the young people priced out of Cardiff and moving into Barry would find her soon enough and then she wouldn't have to be working at past midnight and serving scary looking men with nowhere else to go.

She took a deep breath, plastered on a smile and walked towards her last customer of the night.

'What can I get you sir? Sir? Can I get you something? Would you like to see the menu?'

'Coffee.' His voice was surprisingly soft but sounded as if it hadn't been used for quite a while. There was an accent too, which wasn't local. He coughed to clear his throat.

'Right, sir. No problem. Espresso? Normal coffee? I could get you a bit of food if you're hungry. There's not much left, but I could rustle something…' her voice trailed off.

It was then something seemed to unwind in him. Like a conscious effort to behave like a decent human being. He pushed his hair back from his face, straightened his shoulders and looked up at her. 'Normal coffee would be great. Strong as you can make it. Thanks.'

As she returned with the coffee in her own mug - much bigger than the standard ones, because he looked like he could do with it - she took a second to reassess him. He was a mess, but god he was an attractive mess. It was the sudden flash of warmth in his brown eyes, the hint of a smile reluctantly brought to his mouth as she set the huge mug down in front of him. 'That'll certainly warm me up' he said, wrapping his gloved hands round the mug. 'Careful, it will keep you buzzing til morning' Beth laughed. She caught herself pushing a lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear, and pulled herself up short. Next she'd be fluttering her eyelashes at him, not very grown up for a thirty year old.

Forty minutes later it was well past time to lock up, but the guy with the Irish accent was still nursing the dregs of his coffee. He was so still. No checking a phone, no fiddling with the menu or the sugar bowl. Just sitting there, thinking thinking thinking.

Beth was still appraising him. 'Excuse me, but why don't you move to this table? It's warmer by the radiator. Can I get you another coffee?'

'No, it's fine, I'm good here, thanks anyways. Do you always stay open this late?'

'Well actually …'

'Oh right, of course. Sorry about that. Great coffee you have here but I should go now, it's a bit of a drive and the weather's shitty'

'Far to go?' she asked, just for the sake of prolonging the conversation.

'Not really. Bristol. There's someone I need to talk to, you know, unfinished business.' He broke off 'How much do I owe you?'

As she took the coins she glanced down at his odd fingerless gloves. They were looking as bedraggled as he was, but her eyes widened as she realised that the marks on the left glove looked an awful lot like blood. Her eyes flickered up to his face, and she knew instantly that he'd seen her look. He knew. And in that moment she did too. She was caught up in something here, she didn't know what it was, but she really didn't want to be.

He stood up quickly, scraping the chair and making her pull backwards. Her heart started racing as fast as her mind as the adrenalin kicked in. Fight or flight. Could she get to the door before him if he tried to hurt her?

'I'll be off then' he muttered, walking the long way round the tables to avoid coming too close to her. His beautiful eyes were downcast, suddenly strange and dark infused. 'Goodbye' he called back unexpectedly, then the door slammed shut.

Beth ran to the door, turned the key, and sank into a chair. Thirty seconds ago everything was fine and she was on the verge of flirting with a very hot guy in need of a warm bath and some TLC. Now she was shaking, and fighting off waves of disbelief and confusion. When he'd walked round the tables she'd looked over at the big mirror above the fireplace to keep an eye on him while avoiding his gaze, and he hadn't been there. Sure it was only fleeting, and she was confused, and it was all happening so quickly, it was insane.

The knock on the door made her jump.

'Police. Can we have a quick word please?'

The upright man with the sharp suit and even sharper face didn't look or sound much like the local police to her, but the squad car and two men in uniform leaning on it reassured her somewhat. 'Just a quick word' he repeated.

Beth opened the door. 'Can you show me some identification please?'

He flashed her his warrant card, and handed over a business card for good measure. She nodded and headed back into the café, but he didn't follow her in. Sighing, she walked back to the door 'How can I help you then?'

'I won't keep you long at this time of night, madam. We're tracking a missing person, and were hoping you'd seen him. Irish, mid twenties, six foot, slim build, dark curly hair, brown eyes ..'

'Could you show me a photograph, it might be quicker' Beth interrupted.

'I'm afraid not, I don't have one with me, but we received a report that he'd been spotted in the area tonight, so we're following up the lead.'

Let's cut to the chase, she thought. 'He sounds a bit like the guy who came in for a coffee earlier'.

Surprise crossed the man's face and his cold blue eyes focused on her more sharply. 'Well now, that _is_ a lucky break. How long ago did he leave? Did you see in which direction he was headed? Did he say where he was going?'

Beth astonished herself 'He didn't say a word, except when he ordered a coffee, then he skulked in the corner for five minutes, paid and left. If it was your guy of course. It might have been an Irish accent but I can't be sure. Sorry I can't help any more.'

'Don't concern yourself, that's been very helpful, we'll leave you to close up now. If we need any more we'll get in touch with you' the man said simply, so why did Beth feel he hadn't believed a word of it.

'If he comes back I'll give you a call' Beth said, looking down at the card.

E. Wyndham, Criminal Investigation Department, South Wales Police – Central.

The only thing that stopped Beth sleeping that night was trying to figure out why she'd trusted the exhausted-looking coffee drinker with blood on his hands a whole lot more than the well-groomed police officer.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday<strong>

She thought she'd never laugh again. Not really. Sure she could fake a pretty good copy of one, but it wasn't real. She quietly willed herself into his room and found herself perched on the corner of the bed. It was the first time she'd allowed herself to do this, and her eyes razed the room, trying to find something that was_ him_. Something to hold on to. It hit her then that there was nothing.

She'd never even have a photograph of him to hold.

'Mitchell'. She breathed the name out. It was all she could do. This would never be finished for her. Then she straightened up. George and Nina would be awake soon, and they were the important ones in all of this. Annie shook herself, Nina needed her. Time to start making some breakfast.

* * *

><p>Ridiculous, he thought to himself. A vampire hanging about in a deserted graveyard as dusk falls. Nope. No cliché there.<p>

It had been a disorientating day altogether. Returning to a city he knew so well, and finding it empty. A whole vampire community, in Bristol since the 17th century gone, wiped out. He thought he was too tired for anger but it was still there bubbling deep below the surface. Rage and hunger had manipulated him for so many decades, and there had always been someone willing to pull those strings. Herrick had been a master of that. An alchemy so subtle on occasions Mitchell hadn't realised just how caged he had been. He had risen to the challenge, been a leader, an enforcer, a ruthless protector, an attack dog. And he'd been the stuff of dark legend. It was exhilarating.

'Until you', he whispered.

A breeze stirred the branches of the willow tree above his head and he stretched his long legs out before him and looked skywards from the bench where he sat.

'I know we said goodbye, Josie, but that was your goodbye. I need to give you mine. It's the final step on the road for me.

'I didn't know it until I sat in that café and looked up. Jesus. For a heartbeat there I thought it was you, sweetheart, tucking your hair behind your ear, looking at me so directly with those blue eyes of yours.

'You always saw me clearly, there was never anywhere to hide from you. It hurt, girl, it fucking hurt, but you saved me.

'You gave me happiness, hope. I didn't deserve them, but you gave them anyway.

'You made me human again, for a while.

'All those people Josie, on that train. What would you have said to me, what could you have said…? Nowhere to hide, my love, not from you, not from myself. I know that now.

'Remember once you told me that being human means dying, that you can't rob people of that. I didn't get it. All I wanted to do was make you better, keep you safe, keep you close. But I get it now. It's time to put the world straight.

'Goodbye Josie.'

He picked up the bag at his feet. There were no flowers to place on her memorial stone. They weren't needed, not between the two of them.

* * *

><p>'Ms Archer? Can I have a word?'<p>

Beth glanced up quickly. Bloody hell, why was she surrounded by tall dark haired Irish men all of a sudden. They were everywhere. 'Of course, fire away'

He stopped, suddenly lost for words. 'I'm trying to get hold of a … a friend. An old friend, from Ireland. I heard on the grapevine he'd been in here and…'

'Wait a minute', Beth straightened up, 'I don't know where you heard that. Lots of people come in here, so I really don't think I'll be able to help you'.

'But…'

So he wasn't giving in easily then. Beth didn't know why she felt so protective towards her fingerless glove guy, but she wasn't going to slip up now. This new one could be working for the police, back for another go at her, and she wasn't about to give away his whereabouts to that Wyndham by mistake.

''Who are you exactly?'

He looked taken aback by her tone. 'I'm a journalist, I work for the South Wales Mercury, my name's Finn.' He stuck out his hand and she shook it involuntarily.

'Pleased to meet you Finn, but I don't talk to door-stepping journalists' she smiled sweetly.

'It's not for my job, Ms Archer, I'm worried about him, I need to see him or get a message to him. It's more important than you could… Look, here's my number. If he comes back will you call me, or at least ask him if you can?'

'Good evening' Beth said firmly, holding his card loosely in her hand, Finn shook his head and accepted defeat.

Beth dropped the card into the bin and craned her head round the coffee machine to watch him leave, glancing towards the mirror as she did so. Oh God. Not again. What was it with these sexy Irish men and mirrors. Yesterday she'd been scared. Today she felt unreasonably frustrated. She bent down and retrieved the card from the rubbish. Perhaps she _would_ speak to him again, and the journalist had better be ready with some answers because she had some questions of her own. If she was unwittingly mixed up in some very weird shit then at least she had a right to know what it was all about, dammit.

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday<strong>

Mitchell drove back to Barry in bright sunshine. His sunglasses clamped to his eyes as he parked the Volvo near the promenade and headed straight for the café. There was no need to delay any longer. His decision had been made and it was absolute.

It was early evening and the café was busy. Beth was making the drinks while part-timer Glyn helped out at the tables. She nearly dropped two mugs when she saw him walk in. Was the man sleeping in a car? It certainly looked like it. Without stopping to analyse how stupid she was being, Beth hurried towards him. 'What a surprise, it's lovely to see you again, Phil. Come on through to the back. Glyn, can you handle this lot?'

Bemused, Mitchell followed her through to the back room. 'I suppose I should ask who Phil is' he said laconically.

'Well it's not as if you've told me your name' she snapped back. Taking a deep breath Beth handed him a business card. 'The police and the press are hassling me about you, so I'm not in the mood to mess around. You can leave by the back door'.

Stunned, Mitchell sat down in the battered old armchair instead. Beth waited.

'This press guy, what did he say?'

'Just that he wanted to speak to you. Actually he sounded pretty anxious.' Beth admitted.

'Could you call him?' She thought she couldn't be surprised anymore, but that caught her out. Within 10 minutes Finn was sitting opposite Mitchell.

Beth left them to it, made sandwiches and coffee, and waited a long time for the hushed conversation to slow down before going back in. It was dark by now, and the rain was falling again.

Finn looked shell-shocked. In fact Beth was pretty sure he'd been crying. What the hell was going on.

'Mitchell… come on, come with me. We can work this out' Finn pleaded.

'No. We can't' Mitchell said softly, 'I know what I'm doing. For the first time in decades, I know this is right. It's time. But I need you to promise me you'll look after them.'

'Give yourself a few months, see what you feel like then…' Finn's voice faded before Mitchell's gaze. He knew that look of old. When Mitchell was this strong, nothing would get in his way. 'I promise', he said, almost too quietly to hear.

Mitchell nodded grimly, he bent over and took something from his bag, tucking it inside his leather jacket. He picked up the bag and handed it to Finn. 'You know what to do? I was clear enough?' he asked.

'Oh yes. You were very clear, mate.'

'Right then.' Mitchell took a shuddering breath, dreading what he knew was ahead but facing it head-on anyway. 'Goodbye' and he unexpectedly stepped up to Finn, pulling him in for a hug.

He turned to Beth. 'I've got to be somewhere' he said gently, putting his car keys down on the table, 'but that fella over there needs a good cup of coffee'. He smiled for the first time, and everything about him changed. It was like he lit up for a moment. 'Thank you' he said, and then lent forward and kissed her forehead. 'Take care of yourself, sweetheart, and take care of him.'

Inexplicably choked, Beth nodded. Mitchell's smile was gone. The haunted, hunted eyes returned. But this time they were overlaid with a look of determination. What happened next would be his decision, his choice. Finally.

* * *

><p><strong>Friday<strong>

Two bloody days. Forty-eight sodding hours. Beth looked forlornly at the door to the café. No sign of Mitchell or Finn. Wyndham had been. Twice. 'Just making sure you're OK'. He'd said. He hadn't asked anything more about Mitchell though.

At last, just before midnight Finn arrived. He looked haggard and was carrying a beaten-up old suitcase. The look on his face was so bleak that the greeting died in Beth's mouth.

'He's gone.' he said 'It's finished'.

'What does that mean?'

'Lock up the café, Beth, I've got a lot to tell you. He made me promise I would, but I don't know where to start'.

Beth did as he asked, then took his hand and led him quietly to her flat upstairs.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue – two months later<strong>

The sun was shining on Barry. Well that made a change. George was on his way back from the hospital and enjoying the morning sunshine. Finn said he should stop off for breakfast at Beth's. His girlfriend's café had finally been remodeled, the workmen had gone, and the bookshop was open.

It was as welcoming as Finn had said. George didn't know much about Beth, she and Finn seemed to keep themselves to themselves. Just as well when your man's a vampire, George thought to himself. Beth came smiling towards him. 'Camomile tea for you, I think' she laughed 'you've just done a night shift. Please, take a look around'.

George stepped into the cosy bookshop at the back. It felt like a library and he was sure he'd be spending a lot of time in here choosing which books to buy, supported by plenty of piping hot tea. He smiled.

Then he saw it. Above the fireplace hung a harlequin mask. It took a moment for the shock to wear off and logic to kick in. Of course Finn had helped them after … after that night. He'd taken the suitcase. Probably he'd thought the mask was an interesting bit of interior design. Bizarre though.

Beth handed him his tea. 'I love that' she said, smiling 'it's such a special thing. It belonged to a friend of Finn's, well, the guy's girlfriend really. She was a dancer. He kept it for all those years. He had wanted to help her set up a dance studio, but they never got the chance. He made Finn promise to use some money he gave him on making my dream come true. And now you're standing in it'.

George said nothing.

'That's him' she said, pointing to a faded photograph hanging next to the mask 'the last photo of him. In uniform and heading off to that terrible war. He was so young. I'm glad I had the chance to meet him'.

'George knew Mitchell better than any of us' Finn said from the back of the room, 'but it's for him to tell that part of the story'.

Finn stepped away, back into the café and sat by the window. It could work, he knew it could. Human and vampire building a life together, slowly earning the trust of the werewolves and the ghost. Between them they could patch together Mitchell's story, fill in the missing pieces for each other. Come to terms. They could keep each other safe. It would be good this time. It was what Mitchell had planned.

The bell rang as the café door opened. 'Well well, and here you are,' a confident voice said. Finn looked up as Wyndham sat down in the chair opposite, effortlessly avoiding any exposure to the mirror above the mantle. 'Finlay Cutler, we've been keeping a very close eye on you, and I just thought it was time I officially welcomed you to Barry.'

* * *

><p>end<p> 


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